"Don't Go Breaking my Eggs" A Short Story by Osnar Chávez
"What happened to your sister?" Not interrogate me about that. Same thing every time someone accesses my home. The photo is meaningful to me, but I dislike others seeing it. "An accidental fire," I lie. *** Easter. 1989. A warm spring for the rainy season we are used to. Stereotypical: Sun, flowers, animals and children playing. Every year, Mom would hide in the park the Easter eggs that we decorated during the previous month and filled with confetti. My little sister and I tracked them down to use as projectiles. It was the version of violence and confrontation allowed in a single day of annual catharsis. At the bottom of my basket, I came across a peculiar egg. Extremely ornamented. Not the one embellished by elementary school kids with cheap watercolors. I felt the texture of the design in my fingertips. Vivid colors and intricate drawings mesmerized me. My older sister approached. I presented her my souvenir. Without noticing, she cracked it in m...